


Drove Me Wild

by meian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A whole lot of Awkward, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood Drinking, Eventual Smut, Humor, Just to be safe, M/M, Platonic Hunk/Lance, Sort of dub-con at the beginning?, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meian/pseuds/meian
Summary: Lance probably should've learned not to run off with strange alien chicks the first time he got left to die on some foreign planet but some things just never change. Except, well, for the fact that he'd unwillingly joined the ranks of the undead. A vampire!AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Voltron Primary Big Bang](http://voltronbigbang.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My first Voltron fic, and also my first Big Bang challenge. It was an Experience. Hope you all enjoy, and please check out all the artwork for this fic! It is awesome-blossom, I promise.
> 
> Artists: [spacebitch-pidge](http://spacebitch-pidge.tumblr.com/post/157384322934/voltron-big-bang-submission-for-the-fic-drove-me) | [pepplemint](http://pepplemint.tumblr.com/post/157446256760/pictures-i-did-for-drove-me-wild-by-ghostfeather) | jaybirddraws [[1]](http://jaybirddraws.tumblr.com/post/157402508853/my-piece-for-the-voltronbigbang-this-is-a-scene) [[2]](http://jaybirddraws.tumblr.com/post/157464362863/final-piece-for-drove-me-wild-by-ghostfeather)  
> Thanks to [fabulousanima](http://fabulousanima.tumblr.com/) \+ Iqra for the last minute beta.

Lance McClain had a problem.

In his defense, the planet had seemed Earth-like enough to bring his guard down - breathable atmosphere, warm sunlight, a welcoming people. And most importantly, the ladies were just as bangin', if he overlooked the blue-ish tinge to their skin and the fact that they easily dwarfed all six feet of him. But how could anyone fault him for being open-minded as hell? He liked pretty people, human or otherwise.

He'd met this one at a burger joint. At least, he was pretty sure it was burgers they were serving. Or something close enough to the comforts of home. Although, maybe "met" wasn't quite the right word. Rather, Lance had backed away from the hissing cashier once he'd emptied his pockets of crumpled gum wrappers and a single shoelace when he'd walked right into her. Silver hair, cat eyes, and looking like she could manhandle him right into his grave. She had taken one look at Lance, black eyes flashing red, and hooked a claw into his t-shirt before dragging him right out of the shop.

"H-hey, beautiful," he panted, struggling to keep up with her pace, "where are we goin'?"

The reply came in some low, vibrating hum that Lance could not even begin to comprehend. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of alien language thing yet. Or Earth languages, for that matter, now that he thought about it. He'd flunked French twice in high school before he went for the easy A in Spanish. And even then he only managed a B. The automatic translator in his spacesuit might have come in handy right about then, but it tended to chafe, and Lance was really enjoying that rash-free life. Besides, he once blew a Scottish guy that he could barely understand while vacationing at his grandparents', so as far as he was concerned he didn't really need it. Because one thing was for sure: body language was universal, _especially_ when it came to love and lust.

It seemed improbable for them to have arrived at the nightclub as fast as they did, but if there was anything Lance had learned in his time as a Paladin, it was that time did wacky things in space. Who even had the time to question it with an eight foot alien babe giggling right into their neck? He wished Earth girls were like this around him.

He let out a laugh as he was bodily hauled onto the dancefloor. She bent down low to nuzzle his cheek (god, she was so tall) and ruffle his hair like a small puppy. He did feel a bit strange about that, but only because he was used to being taller than most other people on Earth. However he'd never turned down anyone who so clearly wanted him, and he wasn't going to start now. So he let her lead him into some type of hybrid salsa but with a whole lot more grinding.

Something about the beat was so hypnotizing, he didn't even have to be drunk to lose his inhibitions. He could've stayed there all night, twisting and swaying against her body. Her nails, talons really, bit into his hips, and he shuddered, resting his head back against her chest. "You're a really good dancer," he breathed as he stretched his arms over his head and she spun him around. She brought him in close, face to face, and vibrated all over like a cat purring, and yeah, Lance was really into that.

When things started to get heavy, she lifted him up, and he was really into that too. And when she held him against the wall with her body alone, he thought he never wanted to let go. He hardly felt the first bite, just a pinch, barely there, against his neck. "Ooh, feisty," he grinned, arching his back off the wall.

The second bite, though, was _something_ , and Lance yelped in alarm at the sharp pain, twin pricks right in his jugular. "Am I bleeding? I-I think I'm bleeding," he gasped, panic rising over the thick wetness trickling down his neck. This was so not his kink. The wound tore when he pulled away too hastily, the slow trickle turning into a steady stream. But then she lapped it up, mouth eagerly latching onto the source, and somehow...all his discomfort and concerns seemed to melt away gradually into a low bubbling euphoria just under his skin.

Lance let out a feeble moan as his limbs grew limp and slowly, slowly, slowly his consciousness began to slip away.

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

It felt like a 16-wheeler had run over Lance's body multiple times. He could barely find the strength to move his limbs, there was a headache pounding behind his eyes, and, god, if everything would just stop moving, maybe he could stop feeling like he was about to puke. Reluctantly, his eyes cracked open, only for him to find himself in the cockpit of the Green Lion, which was, incidentally, hurtling back toward the Castle of Lions. Lance silently willed his stomach to chill the fuck out, but his headache-y brain wasn't really in the mood to cooperate.

"He's awake." Hunk's low, rumbling voice sent ripples through Lance's brain. It was like being hit in the head with a really big tuning fork. Lance hissed in discomfort.

"Lance!" Pidge gasped from the pilot's seat. They spun around to glance at him in concern.

"Stop bein' so loud," he mumbled, trying his best to curl into himself, but he was just so damn  
_tired_. His arms were 50-pound weights at his sides. Not to mention his head spun whenever he so much as breathed. "'M gonna hurl."

Hunk carefully turned him onto his side, thankfully managing to keep Lance's stomach contents at bay with a gentle hand rubbing at his belly. His other hand softly stroked Lance's sweaty hair away from his forehead. Lance whimpered his thanks. "Don't mention it," Hunk whispered, giving him an extra scratch behind the ear.

Pidge let out a shuddered breath and turned back to the controls. "We waited an hour for you at the meet-up point, but you never showed. And then when we went to look for you, we found you unconscious in some alley and covered in blood! What happened, Lance?"

There was, Lance could see, quite the impressive stain down the front of his shirt. But he could not, for the life of him, remember how it had gotten there. All he could recall was a lot of dancing and a lot of girls and a lot of blue everywhere. "...There was a club..."

Pidge rolled their eyes. "Of course, there was."

"Hey, a little bumping and grinding never hurt anyone." Lance attempted to wriggle his hips and winced at the soreness in his muscles. Okay, bad idea. "Bar fight?" he offered a moment later. "Feels like I got punched everywhere. Man, I really hope I beat the other guy up."

Pidge shook their head, and he deflated. "No, the aliens on Lamia have blue blood. It's why their skin is that color. That's your blood, Lance."

"Except I couldn't find any injuries on him," said Hunk in frustration, "other than some bruises that look suspiciously like hickeys." With a snort, he poked at a spot on the side of Lance's neck that flared up in pain. Lance weakly swatted his hand away. God, why did that hurt so much? "Maybe he met an alien with some weird healing saliva."

"Ow, stop that," Lance snapped, jabbing an elbow feebly into Hunk's side. At least he hoped he did. In reality, it was more like his arm flopping like a fish out of water.

"Maybe we should run some tests when we get back," said Pidge. "Just in case."

Lance huffed. Why were they talking about him like he wasn't right there? He didn't want to take a test. All he wanted was the biggest, juiciest burger in the galaxy. Or the entire universe. He wasn't picky. As long as it was extra rare. Maybe even a steak. A cow? Lance could've eaten about two cows raw right about then. They didn't have cows in space. Pity.

Lance's mouth felt dry, and his stomach felt like it either wanted to cave in on itself or crawl out of his skin. He groaned and turned his face into Hunk's arm, lips pressed up against the inside of his wrist. He felt his pulse beating steadily beneath his skin and took a deep breath. For some reason it seemed to calm each and every one of his nerves standing on end.

Hunk untangled his fingers from Lance's hair to his utter dismay. Lance let out a whimper at the loss of contact. "You doing alright, man?" Hunk asked.

"Yeah, I'm just-" So damn tired, but he could hardly bring himself to form words anymore. With a grunt, Lance reached up to wrap his arms around Hunk's shoulders and dragged himself up with as much strength as he could muster until he could fit his face right into the crook of Hunk’s neck. That had just about been the last of his remaining energy. But totally worth it. Lance drew a deep breath, slow through his nose, and felt a slight shudder run down his spine. Since when did Hunk smell so good? "Just peachy."

Pidge turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Don't fall asleep on us yet, okay, Lance? We're meeting the Princess back at the Castle. Stay with us until then."

Lance groaned as his eyelids slowly grew heavier and heavier. It was strenuous work keeping his eyes open. What was the point anyway when it felt like floating in Hunk's arms? It was a nice place to be. He inhaled again, and, man, that hint of sweetness, tanginess, underneath his salty skin... "I'm...staying right here. Feels good..."

"Just a little longer, buddy," Hunk said softly with a nudge to his side as Lance passed out again. Knowing him, no amount of jostling would draw him back into consciousness. Hunk cursed, tightening his grip on Lance's body, and shifted his worried gaze to Pidge. "Aaaand he's out. Pidge, you think you can make this thing go a little faster?"

Pidge's hands flew over the glowing holographic controls, tapping at buttons and dials much quicker than Hunk could even comprehend. "Already on it," they shouted as they slammed on the thrust levers and set the ship to full throttle.

"Wait, wait, Pidge," Hunk cried, scrambling to brace himself against anything he could find, "not _that_ fast!" But they couldn't hear him as the engine's rumble grew quickly to a deafening roar. Like a slingshot, the momentum shot him back hard enough to bang his head against the wall, and he, too, was out cold.

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

Allura never realized how tightly wound her nerves were until she saw the Green Lion land in the hangar. She had rushed back to the castle from her meeting with the planet Lamia's governing council as soon as she'd gotten the transmission from Pidge, already fearing the worst. The breath left her lungs all at once as they tumbled, quite literally, out of the mouth of the Lion, Lance dragging limp and awkward over Pidge's back while they shoved Hunk along the ramp with her foot.

"Oh, dear, it's worse that I thought." With a gasp, Coran scurried forward to heave Hunk off the floor, while Allura took to Lance's side, easing the weight off Pidge's back. "We have to get them to the infirmary at once!"

"What happened out there?" Allura demanded, cutting a Pidge a stern look. Her voice echoed ominously through the hangar, which really amplified the effect of her scowl. Pidge's shoulders drew in nervously. "If I recall, there was a distinct lack of Hunk in your report."

"Oh," Pidge shrugged, shooting an uninterested glance at Hunk, "don't worry about him. He just hit his head. Happened a lot at the Garrison. He should be back in no time." When they all turned to look at Lance, however, concern clouded their expression, eyebrows furrowing as she bit at the corner of her lip.

Allura followed their gaze to the dried, darkening blood soaked down the front of Lance's shirt. She held her breath against the distinct, pungent iron odor wafting up to her nose. This much was hard to take. She was careful to avoid the stain as she pressed her fingers just beneath his jaw, struggling to find the steady beating along his artery. "His pulse is weak," Allura said, frowning, "Where's he injured?"

Pidge fiddled nervously with a loose panel on their armor, avoiding Allura's eyes. "Well, Princess," they said, "that's just the problem. Hunk already looked him over and there's not one cut or laceration on him anywhere. He's just...weak. And bruised."

Coran took a step closer and peered at Lance, narrowing his eyes at the pair of purpling marks along his neck. "That is certainly curious," he murmured mostly to himself. "What did you say happened to him again?"

"All he remembered was going to a club, but I can't see how that's relevant. We only found him afterwards lying in an alleyway."

"Well! This is a bit of a pickle, isn't it?" said Coran, idly twirling his mustache between his fingers. "I suppose it could be anything then. Was he attacked? Did he attack someone?"

Allura shook her head. "I certainly hope not. That would be absolutely unacceptable for a Paladin. We're _defenders_. We defend things."

Internally, she groaned in frustration. As much as this was a break for the team, it was, more than anything, a diplomatic gesture. A demonstration of their reputation as guardians and defenders of the universe, reaching out to the very beings they protected. If there was even the slightest bit of chaos and havoc wreaked on the planet, well, Allura did not want to be the one dealing with the political fallout.

Their discussion was abruptly interrupted when Shiro's voice crackled through the ship's PA system. A large holographic projection of his face appeared on the wall. He looked markedly more distressed than usual, and just behind him, they could see Keith looking anywhere _but_ the screen. "Princess, the, uh...the meeting with the Lamian council got cut a bit short. Indefinite hold on the alliance agreement." He briefly threw a not-at-all subtle glance at Keith, and god, _that_ meant nothing good. "We'll be coming in to dock shortly."

"What? How?" Allura asked to no one in particular as the video feed had cut off. She kept her voice composed, despite the urge to pull out her hair because she did not deserve having to deal with this many messes in one day. "Never mind, we can discuss everything later. As of right now, our priority is Lance's well-being." She whipped around to face Coran, who stood at attention, awaiting her next order. "Prepare a healing pod, and we'll figure out where to go from there."

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

"I leave you for an hour, and you nearly manage to cause a interplanetary political incident? How could you possibly have managed to offend three different council members _and_ a member's spouse?"

Keith slouched in his seat, trying his best to avoid Allura's damning gaze, but it was difficult when her presence just naturally commanded attention. Heat rose to his cheeks in shame. It was that whole...Mom thing, which he supposed was a bit of a strange feeling considering the closest thing to a mother-figure he ever had was probably his third grade teacher Ms. Fisher up until she put him in time-out.

"How was I supposed to know it was a ceremonial cup I knocked over?" he asked.

A throat cleared beside him, interrupting his reply. "You didn't knock it over... You threw it at their face when you realized it was blood."

Keith sent a glare over his shoulder at the traitor, also known as Shiro. His truest friend and confidant, almost a brother to him, and yet, Keith had never felt more betrayed.

"Yeah, it was blue, and they wanted me to drink it. Besides, I didn't mean for it to hit them in the face."

"And then you threatened a council member with your bayard," Shiro continued, pointedly ignoring him.

"They threatened me first," Keith muttered when Allura's eyes widened incredulously.

"And _then_ -"

Keith threw himself at Shiro and slapped a hand over his mouth. "Alright, we get it!" He held firm for a moment until he felt a sharp bite against his palm and instantly recoiled in pain. Shiro shot him an unimpressed look as he wiped off the bit of drool at the corner of his mouth.

Allura stared down her nose in disdain, unamused at the both of them. "Yes, I believe I've heard enough. Keith, do you realize what the issue here is?"

Keith slumped further into his seat and held up two fingers. "I have zero impulse control and an aversion to authority. Yeah, heard it before. I already told you not to send me in."

"No, as Paladins of Voltron, you not only defend the universe, but you act as ambassadors. How can you expect anyone to trust you to protect them if you cannot even conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station?"

Keith just shrugged. Never in his entire life had he ever imagined getting involved in intergalactic politics of any sort, and now he was waist-deep, whether he liked it or not. Tough reality for a kid with simple pilot dreams.

"Look," he sighed, "why didn't you just send Lance over there? He's good with people. He'd make them laugh about it."

Allura suddenly looked troubled as she brought her fingers to her temples, massaging them slightly. "The reason I had to send you in was _because_ Lance was injured."

For the briefest moment, the breath seized in Keith's chest. He vaguely registered Shiro's concerned tone, bombarding Allura with questions, but it was the furthest thing from his mind. It wasn't the first time he'd found himself flashing back to the moment after they'd defeated Sendak, although usually it was the warmth of Lance in his arms he preferred to remember, rather than the fear of not knowing what had happened to him. It was the little things, those small fleeting moments, that you had to hold onto in a job like this.

Almost subconsciously Keith's found his feet carrying him away from the castle's lounge to the med bay. A lone healing pod stood out in the circle. Coran and Hunk stood by to the side, whispering while bent over a holographic tablet. "Oh, Keith, you guys are back," Hunk said, startled.

"What happened out there?" Keith asked, eyes flickering over the displayed vital signs. They didn't look good. Low body temperature, rapid heart rate, high respiratory rate, low blood pressure. Keith's knuckles knocked gently against the cool glass, warm breath clouding over it as he leaned in to peer closely. Lance looked pale and tired in there, and it nearly made Keith angry. He turned back to the other two. "Well?"

"That's a very good question, Keith," Coran said, glancing sheepishly down at the tablet. "And the answer would be...we don't know."

Keith's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, 'you don't know?'" He caught sight of the dripping icepack in Hunk's hand and frowned further. "What happened to you? Were you guys attacked?"

Hunk's eyes widened and glanced down at the bag of already melted ice that he'd managed to forget about. He haphazardly tossed it over his shoulder. "Oh, no, I just bumped my head in Pidge's Lion. Happens all the time. I'm fine. Um. But we found Lance bloody and unconscious, and we're hoping he'll remember something once he wakes up, because nothing is really adding up."

"Yes," Coran piped up, "these are definitely signs of blood loss, and my test results confirm the blood on his shirt was, indeed, his, but the question is how?"

Keith looked back and forth between them, waiting for an elaboration. Coran shrugged.

"Not one scab on his body."

"What? Then how the hell is he-" He cut himself off abruptly when his mind latched onto a memory, closed his eyes and flexed his right hand in his glove. He remembered, vividly, the burn of magic shooting through his veins like lightning, and how, a moment later, it had all seemed to have disappeared without a trace. It stared him right in the face. It's what powered the damn ship. "It's quintessence...quintessence has healing properties."

Coran shook his head. "We've already explored that route. To heal that quickly, you'd need a large amount. As of right now, only the Galra has the capability to harvest raw quintessence in that capacity, and we're days from their nearest ship. There's no way he came in contact with it."

"Well, how sure are you that our intel was reliable? Maybe it was outdated," Keith replied stubbornly, if only to convince himself. The fact of the matter was that it was a bit more reassuring having to face a known threat than being completely left in the dark about what was wrong.

Coran reached out to pat Keith on the shoulder in a way Keith was sure was supposed to be patronizing. He scowled and roughly shrugged his hand off. "I appreciate your concern, Keith, and I'll be sure to relay them to Allura. In the meanwhile, I suggest you two find something to eat. It's been enough excitement for one day. I'm going to need a cup or two of nunvill myself. After today, my moustache is going to go limp." With a small bow, Coran spun on his heel and strolled a way, humming casually as he retreated.

Keith fell to a crouch and let his head thunk against the cool glass of the pod. He released a sigh and glanced up to peer at Hunk. Hunk gazed at Lance with a worried expression, lip stuck between his teeth. While Keith had never felt comfortable laying his heart out for everyone to see, Hunk tended to wear his emotions like a badge of honor right in the center of his chest.

Keith reached out with the toe of his boot and knocked it gently against Hunk's own. Hunk shifted his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him curiously. "Was it hard?" he asked hoarsely. "When you found him, I mean."

Hunk gave him a bittersweet smile and slid down to join him. They leaned against the glass together, elbows brushing against each other. "I was scared as hell," Hunk said. "I mean, I'm always scared 'cause we've been through some shit. But I've known Lance for as long as I can remember. He's family. I can't lose him. I don't even know what life would be like without him."

"Quiet," Keith smirked with a halfhearted nudge to Hunk's side. Hunk chuckled through his nose and slugged him in the arm.

"I like a bit of noise."

Hunk was right. Even then, the silence was off-putting in a way that tugged at Keith's stomach, piquing his anxiety. It was so vastly different to the way things had been like for him on Earth. In foster homes, at the Garrison, so utterly reserved it landed him in a remote desert shack. If he was alone, what did he have to lose?

He hung his head as the faint smile faded from his lips, and he hesitated on his next words. "I've...I've never really had anyone before," Keith murmured, half to himself and half out loud. "I can't lose him either. Or anyone. This...you guys are all I have." Now here he was, part of this ragtag, motley crew, and just the mere thought of losing anyone wrenched his heart.

Hunk wordlessly dragged him closer until his head was pillowed on his arm, the muscle firm and warm beneath his cheek. Keith instinctively stiffened before he let the tension slip away with a shaky exhale and relaxed. "You know," Hunk said, breath tickling the top of his head, "we are totally the weirdest bunch of people, but we've got a good thing here. Family, huh?"

Keith wasn't quite sure what to call it just yet, but they were maybe getting there.

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

Keith brushed past Coran and Allura lingering at the entrance of the infirmary, heads bowed and speaking in low voices. He didn't mean to overhear. "I don't know what it is, Princess, but he's not getting better. Do you think we should launch a proper investigation with the Lamian authorities? They may be willing to cooperate..."

He blocked out the rest of their conversation as he moved further into the room. Keith would personally claw his way back through a wormhole and travel back in time himself if it meant dispelling the awful, suffocating tension throughout the castle. Everything was so damn quiet now.

Keith crossed the floor over to Lance's healing pod. Pidge sat cross-legged in front of it, bobbing their head slightly to the loud techno blasting through their overlarge headphones. They never noticed Keith approaching from behind. With a smirk, he jostled Pidge lightly with his knee, and they nearly jumped three feet in the air in shock. Their laptop clattered shut on the floor, closing on the game they'd been playing.

"Look what you've done." Pidge glowered accusingly at Keith through their bangs.

"You're gonna go deaf if you listen to music like that," said Keith, flicking them in the forehead.

"I was trying to stay awake!" Pidge cried. They began to collect their belongings while Keith took his place on the floor beside them, mirroring their position while he rested his head against the back of the pod.

Pidge sighed and placed a hand against the glass tube, as if they could touch Lance through it if they tried hard enough. "Gonna be a long night."

"Got snacks," Keith replied, pulling out a half-crushed protein bar from his pocket. He tore open the wrapper with his teeth as Pidge strolled out of the room with a wave, leaving him alone for watch duty for the night.

Under Allura's instruction, they had to set up a watch after the first couple of nights of Lance showing no signs of recovery. The castle had no choice but to function as usual, however, no one wanted to leave him unattended in case he ended up waking up alone. So Keith had volunteered his nights without even giving it a second thought. It wasn't as if he could get himself to sleep anyhow with his restless thoughts and troubles running like a non-stop, high-speed car chase in his head, but, most importantly, no one else was around while he talked.

He sharply rapped against the glass twice with his knuckles. "Hey," he murmured. "Wake up, buddy. I haven't sparred with anyone in days. And, you know, your hair is stupider than mine. I wanna tell you that to your stupid face."

Keith pulled his knees in toward his body and buried his head in his arms. Part of him almost wished this was all an elaborate joke. That Lance had been pulling their legs the entire time and he wasn't really in a coma. That he would pop out any moment now and admit he was just joshing. And Keith wouldn't know what he'd despise Lance more for - the prank itself or using the word "joshing" - but he would most definitely burn all of his crop tops for revenge while roasting marshmallows.

Keith heaved a sigh. It was...lonely.

He occupied himself with his dagger, idly polishing the blade with the edge of his bandanna until his mind inevitably succumbed to his stubborn exhaustion.

Keith woke from his doze to the long, lone, haunting beep of the heart monitor buzzing in his ears. "No," he croaked, gazing panicked at Lance's pale face which had seemed to grow impossibly duller from just hours ago. His vitals weren't reading anything. "What's happening?!"

This wasn't supposed to happen. What good was space magic if it allowed this to happen? He ran his hands all along the sides healing pod, looking for an eject button, an extra dose of quintessence, or anything at all, but all he felt was the smooth surface of glass welded to metal.

He sprinted to the console on the wall and slammed his fist down on three buttons all at once. "I need help," he cried hoarsely into the mic, his own booming voice startling him through the PA system.

His legs barely held him up as he returned to the Lance's healing pod. He fell to his knees with an anguished cry of frustration as a tear slipped out of his eye.

"You're supposed to wake _up_ , damn it! Don't die on me! Don't fucking leave! Not now!"

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

Lance came to six galaxies later to little fanfare, much to his disappointment.

"What? No clock party this time?" Lance drawled, crouching low over Shiro's dozing form slouched on the floor.

Shiro, ever the light sleeper, shot straight up with a startled yelp. "Lance," he gasped, dazedly as he gradually gathered his bearings. He looked harrowed, eyes red and lined with dark circles, but immensely relieved once his eyes landed on him. His breath left him in a deep, long sigh. "Thank goodness, you're alright. I need to let the Princess know. But first you need to eat something." He pushed himself to his feet and dragged Lance along with an arm wrapped firmly around his waist.

The awkward shuffle to the galley took far longer than it might have if Shiro had even entertained the thought of letting go of Lance for just one second. He felt totally fine. Better than fine, even. He probably could've done a cartwheel, if he had bothered to learn how back in gym class.

"Shiro," Lance huffed, wriggling in the stubborn grip of his prosthetic. It was inhumanly strong, and Shiro knew it and used it to his advantage. A dick move for sure. "Seriously, I'm feeling fine. I could lift a car right now. Maybe ten cars!"

Shiro raised a single eyebrow. "You can lift ten cars, but you can't lift my arm?"

"Don't mock me."

Shiro turned to Lance with a roll of his eyes but a fond look on his face. "Look, humor me, will you? If you end up in a pod again for tripping over your own feet and hitting your head, it's going to be my fault. Just let me have this peace of mind."

With the most exaggerated pout, Lance went limp against Shiro's side, like his limbs had gone liquid. His head lolled against his shoulder and his knees buckled beneath him. "Ugh, but _dad_ ," Lance whined.

Shiro paused in his tracks and peered at Lance, pondering. "...Do you see me as a father figure, Lance?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You just called me 'dad.'"

"N-no, I didn't! If anything I see you as a bother figure 'cause you're always bothering me!"

Lance kicked and shoved at Shiro until he was forced to release him. With an annoyed huff, he spun around to blow a raspberry at a very bewildered Shiro, then stomped off down the hall, footsteps echoing behind him.

The moment Lance rounded the corner into the galley, he was nearly bowled over by a five-foot blur of movement knocking right into his chest. "LANCE!" Pidge cried out in relief.

"Now this is more like it," Lance grinned as Hunk engulfed them all into a group hug. "I can't believe you guys threw me a surprise party. And it's not even my birthday! At least, I don't think so..."

"We all came to see how you were feeling, Lance," Allura said, standing at the head of the long dining table. "Please, come and eat something. You need to regain your strength."

"Honestly, I'm feeling fine, but, yeah, I could eat."

The food goo on the ship had never been particularly appetizing, but for some reason, Lance just couldn't stomach it. He could feel his stomach protesting the moment it touched his tongue. He pasted a stiff smile onto his face as he idly poked around at it with his spoon like he used to do with his aunt's fried plantains, hoping that no one would notice that none of it was actually being consumed.

Lance casually rested his cheek in his palm and met Allura's eyes across the table. He shot her a wink, which she pointedly ignored. "So, Princess, what happened? What have I missed?"

"Well," Allura replied, gazing back at Lance intently, "we were hoping you could tell us, actually. What exactly do you remember last?"

"Um, we were in the Green Lion, and I fell asleep in Hunk's arms," Lance answered. "Right? That is what happened? I feel like this is a test. Pidge told me there would be tests."

"No, this is not a test," said Allura, "but do you remember anything at all before that?"

Lance went quiet as he racked his brain, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to summon his last memory. There was a very vivid image in his head of a red-eyed, sharp-taloned alien towering over him. A shiver ran down Lance's spine. The figure was almost menacing in its beauty, daunting for some reason he could not comprehend. It hurt his head to recall even this much.

Lance frowned, shaking his head. "I got nothing," he said. A collective groan seemed to pass through the room. "What's wrong?"

"It's all very vague," said Coran. He stood from his seat and paced back and forth while stroking his mustache, which Lance had by now recognized as a distressed habit. "From what we've gathered, something or someone caused you to lose a whole lot of blood. Something also managed to somehow heal whatever wounds you may have incurred, and thank goodness for that because we weren't sure you'd make it after your heart stopped."

"Whoa, my heart stopped?" Lance gasped, leaning back in his chair, eyes wide.

"You were dead for _three whole minutes_ ," Hunk frowned, scooting his chair closer. He placed a hand on Lance's arm. "We were all really worried."

"Wow," Lance said, unable to stop the laugh from escaping past his lips, "so I'm like, technically a zombie now? If I'm being honest, I'd take brains over this food goo."

"It's not funny," Keith snapped suddenly, fist slamming down against the table with a loud bang. Lance's bowl rattled from the force, some of the green mush sloshing out onto the surface. The movement caught Allura's eye. She frowned at his untouched food.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Lance scoffed. He'd only peripherally noticed Keith before, hunched over silently at the far corner of the table, and he'd thought nothing of it while everyone else surrounded him. He could acknowledge the fact that maybe 80% of the time, he was most likely the bane of Keith's existence. But this time, he definitely had done nothing. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood here. Besides, it's not like _you're_ the one who almost died."

Keith froze, looking like he'd been slapped in the face. And Lance might as well have done that _and_ crashed his Lion if the disapproving looks he got from the others said anything. He stiffly pushed away from the table and marched out of the room, footsteps echoing behind him.

"Not cool," Hunk said, shaking his head.

Lance gaped at him and pouted, crossing his arms over his chest like a child would. "What did I do? He's the one getting angry at me for no reason!"

Shiro sighed, reaching over to clamp a hand over Lance's shoulder. Lance raised his eyes to meet his curiously. "Keith was keeping watch when your heart stopped. It hit him pretty hard. I think you should maybe talk to him about it."

The others slowly trickled out of the kitchen, one by one, Allura scowling at him until he turned back to his food goo. He still wasn't planning on eating any, but it gave him the time to ponder the pained look across Keith's face. His raked his hands through his hair in frustration and let out a sigh, already making up his mind.

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

It didn't take long to find Keith at the training deck afterwards, fiercely clashing swords with the training robot with a single-minded concentration Lance couldn't help but to be impressed with. He might as well have been invisible in that moment. "End training sequence," Lance called out loudly enough for the system to register, standing nervously in the open doorway. The robot went dim and limp. Caught off guard, Keith whirled around to face Lance, fingers tightening on the grip of his bayard. He narrowed his eyes and didn't speak a word, but he relaxed his stance just a bit and stared back expectantly. "Can I...come in?"

Keith shrugged. "Whatever," he mumbled, then nodded after a moment.

Lance breathed out in relief and quickly scurried into the large room. He cleared his throat, suddenly unsettled with that unwavering gaze staring him down intensely. He fumbled his apology. "So. Um. Sorry, man. Shiro told me what happened, and I guess, I shouldn't have joked about my own death and all that?" He resisted the urge to smack himself in the face. Just why hadn't he stayed in the observation deck?

Keith raised a sharp eyebrow. "Was that supposed to be a question?"

"I-I mean, I shouldn't have," Lance stuttered, mentally cursing at himself. "You know I say dumb shit all the time. Just ignore it like you usually do."

"...I don't ignore the things you say," Keith mumbled.

"Really?" Lance's eyes widened, feeling oddly elated. He hadn't quite expected that revelation. A nervous chuckle slipped from his lips as he reached a hand behind him to rub the back of his neck, unsure of how to react.

Keith huffed, refusing to meet his eyes as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "It's good to have you back. For the team," he said, forcing a casual shrug. His face was already flushed from exertion, but it seemed to pinken even more. He hid his face inside his t-shirt, pulling the collar up to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Lance couldn't help the way his eyes zeroed in on Keith's stomach, clearly defined and gleaming with the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. He felt the flush creeping up his neck and told himself it was jealousy because his body wasn't half as toned. Quickly he averted his eyes before Keith had a chance to take notice and spotted the weapons rack along the wall.

"So...we're cool now, right?" Lance asked distractedly, quieting his footsteps as he shuffled over to the rack. He carefully took down one of the spare practice swords, eyes brightening at the comfortable weight of the hilt in his hands, nice and lightweight. It instantly glowed blue at his touch. He twirled it in his hand with ease, a mischievous grin stretching across his face.

"Sure, we're cool," Keith replied, voice muffled behind the fabric.

"Well, pretty boy, how about a little one-on-one?"

Keith's stomach quivered at the threat of cool metal just grazing the skin of his abdomen. He dropped the collar of his shirt to reveal a small smirk, all suddenly forgiven. He really was too easy. "You sure about that? You just came out of the healing pod."

"Pretty sure I could take you with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back, Mullet."

Keith snorted. He grasped his bayard tightly as it transformed back into his sword and brandished it with a flourish before pointing it right at the center of Lance's throat. "I'll go easy on you."

He did not go easy on him.

Keith took the offense immediately. He ran straight at Lance, the pointed end of his sword aiming for his chest. Lance hopped back just in time with a gasp and scowled, knocking his bayard out of the way. He growled low in his throat before lunging, his blade whipping through the air. It barely missed Keith's chest as he spun out of reach of Lance's first jab, swinging around hard against Lance's sword, but he held firm. Their blades met with a loud clang. Keith gritted his teeth and forced more of his weight behind his bayard.

It was funny how exerting himself like this was what brought Keith out of his mind. It was almost palpable, the way his stress and worries all seemed to flow right out of his body with each strike of his sword. It wasn't long before he was dripping sweat, his arms pulsing with a comfortable soreness. But for how tired he was beginning to feel, Lance looked almost bored. He'd yet to even break a sweat. Keith scowled.

"Are _you_ going easy on me?" he asked incredulously.

Lance blinked at him. "Well, you said you said you were."

Keith fell back to his starting position, sword gripped firmly in front of him. "Don't," he hissed between his teeth.

To his surprise, Lance was whip fast, switching stance and maneuvers quicker than his mind could keep up with. Keith deflected a strike to his left, but before he had had time to blink, Lance was drawing back and cutting a large arc toward his shoulder once again. He'd never sparred like this before.

There was a wild look in Lance's eyes as he advanced on Keith with even greater speed, the force of his blows shoving Keith further and further across the room. He had no choice but to concentrate on defending himself before he ended up with a sword through his gut. The practice swords were not quite sharp enough to pierce skin, but something in the back of his mind told Keith that Lance could probably manage. He was almost starting to regret putting away his bayard.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Keith gritted, pressing his hand against the sharp pain blossoming in his side. The fight was beginning to overwhelm him, and yet Lance was still going strong, the grin on his face undisturbed. He wasn't arrogant enough to claim he'd never lost to Lance before, but to this extent? It was an unfamiliar experience.

"I could do this all day," Lance snickered tauntingly. His breath had become a bit labored, but not enough to stop him from tossing his sword casually from hand to hand. How utterly infuriating, Keith thought to himself.

Letting out a noise of frustration, Keith carelessly threw down his bayard and leapt straight at Lance. Lance's eyes widened for half a second before he ducked and, in one smooth move, kicked Keith's feet out from underneath him. Once he was down, Lance clambered on top of him and dropped all his weight on his belly. Keith grunted in pain.

"You dirty cheater," Lance grinned, hovering entirely too close for comfort. Keith felt his breath warm on his face.

"Me?" Keith gaped up at him in disbelief. " _You're_ the cheater!"

"How did I cheat? You're the one who tried to tackle me. This is just self-defense."

"I don't know! You're- you're fucking insane!" Keith desperately kicked and squirmed, unsuccessfully attempting to shove Lance away from him. "Get off me!"

"Stop moving," Lance croaked as his body stilled.

He had his sword pressed hard against Keith's throat, one hand gripped tightly over the hilt and the other over the dull blade. And it was faint but it was there, Keith's pulse beating rapidly with the blood in his veins. The subtlest of vibrations, Lance felt down to his core. It sent a jolt through his entire body, through all of his nerves, until he could feel it pounding within himself. The heat seemed to drain from his face straight down to his groin.

Lance nearly choked on his inhale as he scrambled off of Keith's waist, putting as much distance between them as he could. His face could've been mistaken for a beacon with how bright it was. They might as well have stuck him at the front of a sleigh. He was well past the age of awkward, random boners. How embarrassing.

He subtly checked out the front of his pants and breathed a small sigh of relief. At least Keith couldn't see anything. Not that it mattered when he hadn't been paying attention to him anyway.

Keith shakily propped himself up on his elbows, head tilted back and eyes shut, as he tried his best to catch his breath. "How the hell did you do that?" he gasped, peering at Lance briefly through one eye before letting it fall shut again. God, he was so damn exhausted everywhere. His body wasn't just sore; it hurt. He was less than optimistic that he'd make it out of the room on his own two feet. "There's no way you could've gotten that good that fast."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Lance deadpanned, shooting him an affronted look. Sighing, he held his hands out in front of himself and flexed his fingers a few times. They still felt jittery with adrenaline all the way up his arms. He'd never felt as invincible as he had just moments ago with the sword in his hands.

"It was _inhuman_ ," said Keith with a frown. Yes, that was it. Not even Shiro's Galra prosthetic wore him out that hard or that quickly. He had to be on _something_.

Lance bit the corner of his lip, chuckling nervously. He clenched his fists and buried them in his lap. "Just admit I beat you."

"Just admit you cheated."

"I didn't cheat!"

Keith huffed, but his a smile his behind his hair. "We'll see about that. Rematch tomorrow?"

Lance nodded with a grin. "Same time, pretty boy."

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

While the fight had been peculiar indeed, afterwards Lance had taken to sparring with Keith almost nightly. It had been Keith's proposal, which worked out just fine for Lance because he found himself oddly restless during the ship's simulated sleep cycles. It had occurred to him that this was perhaps the reason why he found himself so exhausted during the day, but he didn't think much of it because he was honestly enjoying himself.

Besides, he had a few larger concerns to worry about, anyhow.

The following week was...strange to say the least. It started that morning in the bathroom, as most days did. He was pretty sure it was a prank. A homecoming of sorts. Just a little something to welcome him back into the world of the living. It definitely seemed like something Pidge might do.

Lance let out a yawn and gazed groggily at his reflection in the mirror. Except there was no reflection. Or, rather, there was the pristine white tiled wall, the small blue towel hanging off a hook, the shower tucked into the corner of the restroom, and yet none of himself. He looked at himself, then the mirror, then himself, then the mirror again. He narrowed his eyes.

Lance leaned in closer and tapped his fist gently against glass, unsure of what had caused this effect. Was it a photograph in a frame? A secret room behind a window?

"Very funny, Pidge," he chuckled to himself. He'd have to commend them on a job well done. It was almost better than the time he'd switched out all their toothpaste for white paint. Of course, this meant war, and he'd definitely be out for vengeance.

Just in case, he sniffed his toothpaste to check that it had been left untouched, and had nearly recoiled at the overwhelmingly sharp minty scent. It had gone straight to his head and turned his stomach. He felt a migraine coming, but at least it was safe to brush his teeth.

It had taken him a while for him to take notice of the floating toothbrush. He yelped in surprise and dropped it on the counter. This prank was good. _Too_ good.

Lance rinsed off his face and cleaned up the mess while keeping his eyes firmly averted. When he wiped himself off with a towel, he turned his back to the mirror. He was afraid of what he'd see if he turned around. There was that haunting scare a while ago that had really ended up being the Galra, but if he were being honest, he was still skeptical at times. He had always been a little superstitious.

After beating a hasty retreat, he skidded into the galley, quite literally bumping into Hunk.

"Hunk!" he cried happily in utter relief. "My main man! I need you to do me a huge favor."

Hunk grinned giddily and scooped Lance up in a bear hug, resting his chin on his head. "I'm so glad you're back, bro. What do you need?"

"H-how do I look today?" Lance couldn't help the embarrassed stutter. He didn't want to let on how spooked he'd been if Hunk had been in on the prank. He didn't even have time to moisturize that morning. God knew what his skin looked like after being stuck in a healing pod.

Hunk, on the other hand, stared back at Lance with a confused look. He wasn't used to Lance not being one-hundred percent confident one-hundred percent of the time. "You stare at yourself in the mirror for ten minutes every morning."

Lance bit his bottom lip, hesitating just a bit, "But...I still look good, right?"

Hunk smiled at Lance fondly, casually smoothing down a few strands of hair at the top of his head. "Yeah, man, always."

Lance nearly had tears in his eyes as he buried his face in Hunk's neck, sighing in relief. He still smelled so good. "I knew I could count on you, bro," he said, squeezing hard. And then his stomach grumbled. "I am starving, man, what's cooking?"

Hunk turned to the island counter with a grand gesture, explaining the array of dishes excitedly and with pride. There were what looked like a plate piled high with extra fluffy pancakes - emphasis on cake - some sort of roasted pink root vegetable, and a large bowl of what looked like purple noodles topped with something red and leafy. Hunk presented Lance with a plate with all the fixings, none of it appetizing in the least.

The conflicting scents mingled, exacerbating Lance's headache. Reluctantly, he perched himself on the edge of the counter and took the tiniest bite of the pink vegetable. It nearly had him gagging. He forced himself to swallow, but inwardly he groaned, feeling his stomach protest. It felt like his last meal at the Fripping Bulgogian. "You don't have anything else?" he asked, hopefully. He'd take a burger or steak or even his aunt's meatloaf surprise instead.

Hunk frowned, a look of hurt in his eyes. "There's the food goo," he said, lifting one of the nozzles from the wall.

Lance's eyes widened and he shook his head profusely. "No, that's fine. Actually, I don't really feel up to eating breakfast," he sighed, facing away from the food. The mere sight was enough to turn his stomach.

"Are you okay, bro?" Hunk took a step closer to him and placed a careful hand on his forehead. His eyebrows furrowed. "You feel pretty cold, and your skin is kind of pale. Maybe you should lie down somewhere for a while."

"You're right," Lance said, with an apologetic look. "I didn't really sleep last night. I mean, it's probably nothing, but I'll go."

The smell of food seemed to linger even as he escaped from the kitchen. He'd have to change his clothes. They were probably unwearable now. Surely, he'd be safe in the confines of his own room. He quickened his steps, afraid he would hurl right in the carpeted corridor of the castle. Allura wouldn't be too happy about that.

"Hey, Lance."

His head shot up and his feet came to a halt as Keith approached, clothed in nothing but a towel around his waist. Light streamed in from an observation window like the sun, and it was clear where Keith had been from the way the light glistened off his skin. Lance realized now that he'd been wise to turn down his offer to join him in the jacuzzi the night before. His face grew red hot, and his throat was parched, and his eyes would not stray from a lone drop of water that trembled on Keith's neck. Like a man possessed, he took a few steps forward, suddenly hissing in pain.

Lance's eyes widened as he snatched his hand back to his chest. The starlight streaming in from the window had turned his skin pink, almost like a mild sunburn. Mild being an understatement, of course. It felt like a thousand angry ant bites deep underneath his skin that he couldn't get at no matter what.

Keith's brows furrowed. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Lance bit down on his lip, holding back the urge to whimper, until the burning subsided. He snuck a glance down at his hand again to see it had reverted back to normal. A slightly delirious chuckle made its way out of his mouth, and he clamped a hand over it. What the fuck was going on?

"You're kind of freaking me out," said Keith, taking a step closer. The movement dragged his towel a little lower on his hips, and Lance has certainly not missed that.

"Just not feeling that great. I-I gotta gay," Lance said, his voice climbing an octave. "I mean GO."

He nearly ran back to his room and stripped off all his clothes before the door had even fully slid shut. Quickly he dove underneath his blankets. It felt like a furnace under there, but he was mortified enough that he didn't care. He was hungry, he had a boner, he was practically burning up, and his migraine was the worst ever. He felt it pulsing right down to his bones and even in his teeth. Lance buried his head beneath his pillow with a moan, writhing in pain, and wished for sleep to take him so he wouldn't have to suffer any longer.

 

 

☼ ☼ ☼

 

 

"Attention: All Paladins must report to the bridge immediately. I repeat, all Paladins to the bridge immediately."

Lance staggered out of his quarters mostly disoriented and disheveled. His...condition seemed to be worsening as the days wore on. He couldn't bring himself to eat without getting sick, and he found himself falling asleep at the oddest times in the strangest of places - three different storage closets in the past three days. And there were the mirror hallucinations that had him paranoid out of his mind. Yet somehow, by a stroke of luck, he'd managed to escape the scrutiny of everyone else. Which, really, was not the most difficult feat when you were focused on defeating an intergalactic dictator. It's how these things went up in space.

Lance abruptly came to a halt when he came across the wide observation window, the light of the nearest star stretching across the hallway as the ship neared the surface of a dull orange planet. That must've been why they were summoned. And currently, it was the bane of Lance's existence. The closets were sounding mighty nice right about now.

He wasn't looking forward to traversing the length of the window, but there wasn't a way around it. He thanked his lucky stars for his armor, but it left half his face uncovered, which was more difficult to hide around the others. He wasn't even sure what it was. Some type of sun allergy? His sister had that, and it was Not Fun. Logically Lance knew it was something he maybe should've told someone about, but he was wary of seeking anyone else out. It was just that he couldn't bear the thought of the others thinking he was crazy or anything. Not when he couldn't be sure of it himself.

Gritting his teeth, Lance sprinted past the window, doubling in pain over against the wall. He let out a ragged yelp and squeezed his eyes shut. His hand trembled over his face, afraid to touch. It felt worse every time he had to do this, the burn more intense like his blood was simmering.

It always went away, but it was difficult to be patient like this. He was seconds from tearing off his gloves and clawing his face off when he heard light, familiar footsteps pattering behind him. "Lance!" Pidge called out. "Are you okay?"

"Fuck," Lance cursed through his teeth. He inwardly groaned and continued dragging himself down the corridor, bracing a hand against the wall. "Just fine," he murmured, keeping his head down, hoping the shadow from his helmet would be enough to mask the redness. "Stubbed my toe."

Pidge caught up to him and shot him a scrutinizing look, then with a mischievous grin, kicked his foot and ran off. "Suck it up, scrawny."

Lance released the breath he was holding and slid to the floor. He clenched his fists until the pain was a mild throbbing, and finally dragged himself to the bridge where rest of the Paladins had gathered. Hunk shot him a smile, and dragged him closer. He yawned and leaned his head against Hunk's shoulder.

"Not enough beauty sleep?" Hunk murmured under his breath.

"Fuck you, I'm always beautiful."

"That's my boy." He gave Lance a hearty slap to the shoulder, and sent him off to his seat. Lance nearly collapsed into it with a soft moan.

Coran spun on his heel to grin at each of them in turn. "Strap in, Paladins. We've received a distress call from the planet Phyne. A cargo ship has crashed into a canyon, and all its passengers have no way out. It seems that they are, in fact, not fine at all."

" _Coran_ ," said Allura, heaving a pained sigh. She stood at the control with her hands on her hips, shaking her head at him slowly.

Coran's moustache seemed to droop along with his smile. "Right. Sorry, Princess. Not a joke."

As the ship came to land, Shiro began designating tasks. "Lance, the Princess, and I will take the pods and start getting passengers out of the canyon. Hunk and Pidge, you two see if you can get the ship airborne. And, Keith, you'll guard the castle with Coran."

There was a collective murmur of assent as they shuffled to their positions. Legs feeling weak, Lance staggered to his feet, holding his arms out for balance. From the corner of his eye, he caught Allura peering at him, her eyes narrowed in concern.

"I think Keith should come with us. Lance can keep watch," said Allura decisively. Shiro and Keith froze simultaneously and glanced at her, confused, but at the look she sent both of them, they knew better than to argue the point.

Lance nodded and sent a silent prayer to whatever higher being had decided to spare him this time. He shuffled over to join Coran at the control, leaning against the back of his seat. Coran peered behind him with a curious look.

"Oh, you're looking rather pale, Lance. Why don't you sit?" He stood and gestured flippantly at his chair, which Lance fell into graciously.

"Coran, you're so good to me," Lance said, nuzzling into the armrest. His shoulders scrunched as a shudder ran down his spine, revelling in the residual body heat. "It's so warm. You're so warm."

Coran arched a skeptical eyebrow at his full armor and cautiously placed his hand on the side of Lance's face. "Hmm, well, you're abnormally cold compared to a human's optimal body temperature. I suppose I'll take the first watch and let you rest a bit if you're feeling unwell."

Lance gave him a lazy salute and let out a yawn, immediately reclining against the back of the seat, and crossing his arms over his chest. Coran spared him one last glance, an uncomfortable look over his shoulder, and strapped a laser gun to his side.

It was easy for Lance to slip into a dream. Lying in a field of flowers, surrounded by cows, all his for the taking. It was as blissful as he thought heaven ought to be. "You're beautiful," Lance murmured, stroking the face of the cow grazing calmly beside his head. It had unusually long eyelashes. "What's your name?"

The cow mooed at him.

Lance sent her a loving gaze, his mouth salivating at the sight of her, so big and full of life. "Kaltenecker, yes. I love it. You're a good girl. Come to Papa."

He felt a hand suddenly slip under the hem of his shirt and nearly choked on his spit. He whipped his head around and his eyes widened. "K-Keith?!" Lance sputtered.

Keith peered up at him demurely through his lashes as his arms and legs wrapped tightly around him like a vise, sucking his own lower lip into his mouth until it turned red. Lance couldn't drag his eyes away. "You're hungry, aren't you?" he whispered, walking his fingers slowly up Lance's chest.

Kaltenecker's tail whapped against the side of his head, but Lance hardly registered it, his eyes subconsciously flitting to Keith's neck. He felt the ache deep in his stomach. "Yeah," he said, tucking his head underneath Keith's chin. He licked a long stripe along his throat, causing Keith's breath to hitch and legs to tighten around his hips.

A pleased sigh left Keith's mouth and his eyes slipped shut. "Lance," Keith breathed.

Lance followed the trail he'd made with his lips, leaving bruises behind in his wake. "Lance," Keith moaned, louder this time, chanting his name like a mantra.

Just when he'd opened his mouth wide, sharp teeth pressing into the taut skin of Keith's neck, he was startled out of his reverie by his name once again, although this time it wasn't Keith's voice coming out of his mouth. "Lance!"

"....Coran?"

His voice seemed to echo across the field until it, too, distorted into one that wasn't his at all.

_Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man…. Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man… Coran Coran-_

Lance jerked awake with a gasp, gripping the armrests tightly in his hands. He heard Coran's staticky cry of distress through the communicator in his helmet. It was almost as if he'd never been ill at all, with how quickly he'd scrambled to his feet and dove for his bayard. With a flash, it morphed into his energy rifle.

"I need back-up!" Coran yelped desperately. "Sooner rather than later, please!"

"Where are you? What's happening?!" Lance asked, frantically sprinting through the corridors leading to the castle gate. Ever so faintly, he heard the low rumble of a growl and his footsteps quickened.

Lance raised his rifle to his shoulder as he rounded the corner into the main hall, skidding to a halt at the large door. He saw Coran standing unnaturally stiff in the doorway, framed by nothing but darkness. "Coran," he whispered warily, squinting into the night, "what's going on?"

"It seems that we landed right in a Gondar's nest," Coran hissed quietly through his clenched teeth.

"...A what?"

"A Gondar. Highly territorial creatures that will attack if provoked."

Lance _felt_ the creature before his eyes could adjust properly to the darkness, its growl pitched so low it was barely audible, but it sent tremors through his bones nonetheless. The beast itself was hulking and hideous, covered in leathery green skin. It crouched in the shadow of a jagged rock formation, glaring through its beady, piercing eyes. Its teeth, sharp enough to cut through bone, glinted in the dim moonlight. Lance swallowed nervously.

"So what are the odds of us getting away without being horribly maimed?"

"Oh, I'd say slim to none."

Lance nodded, gripping his bayard tightly. His footsteps crunched loudly across the gravel as he took a step ahead of Coran. A threatening growl left the creature's mouth as it raised itself up on its hind legs, towering menacingly above the both of them. It slowly padded closer. "I'll distract it."

"Lance, no! Don't provoke it!"

"Provoke this," Lance grunted, lifting his rifle to his shoulder. He blindly fired a shot at an imaginary target in the distance and made a run for it in the opposite direction. His footsteps beat fast against the uneven ground, dodging the large rocks jutting out in his path. The creature, however, bounded over them much more easily with its long, leaping strides.

While he'd managed to stay out of the creature's grasp, it wasn't long before Lance was cornered at the edge of a cliff. "Shit," he hissed, wheeling his arms as he skidded to a stop. At the corner of his eye, a few pebbles disappeared off the side. He couldn't tell how far down the bottom was in the darkness, and he wasn't particularly keen on finding out.

The rumbling footsteps of the creature came to a stop, and Lance turned to face it head-on. The gleam in its eyes seemed taunting, almost. Well, Lance couldn't let it have the upper hand. A grin grew across his face and he crooked his finger toward it. "Come on, big guy."

The beast beat its feet against the ground, rearing like a bull before it charged right at him, its mouth gaping open with razor sharp teeth. It may have run fast, but Lance was nimble. He neatly dodged it, ducking and spinning quickly out of reach. He'd been hoping for the creature to lose its balance where he'd been standing just moments ago, but to his disappointment, it veered away before it reached the edge of the cliff and rounded on him with an angry growl, like it just knew. Once more, it lunged at Lance, and he scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over a rock. He caught himself before being knocked off his feet by a swinging tail.

Lance saw his chance the moment the creature's back was turned and took a running leap off a large stone. He barely managed to cling onto its flank but he held on for dear life, wrapping his legs around its middle and his arms around its neck. The creature bucked hard, trying to toss him off its body, but to no avail. Lance dug his nails into its thick skin and tightened his grip.

The creature slammed him into the trunk of some strange pink tree that shuddered with the force of the impact. It slammed him two, three times. "No, no, no," Lance muttered as his grip began to weaken. But the beast was beginning to grow tired too, if the way it swayed precariously as it stood was any indication.

It was getting worn down, which was good, but Lance didn't really know where to go from there. His bayard was strapped to his back, so he couldn't reach it lest he wanted to fall, and even if he could he was at too close a range to be any good. Not that he was keen on killing any animals either, even if it was currently trying to do just that. It just didn't sit well with him, and, well, Allura would have a cow.

If he could only subdue the creature long enough for him to get back to the castle relatively unscathed. The back of his armor had to be dented at least, and that would be a bitch to hammer out.

Lance just wished the creature would stop moving so much. It was starting to make him feel queasy, like the one time Keith had made him ride a mechanical taurion at a swap moon. Although he hadn't eaten in so long, he probably wouldn't have vomited anything at all. Damn it, he was still so hungry, but why couldn't he sate his hunger at all.

Dizziness seemed to overtake him as he pressed his face into the neck of the beast, inhaling sharply. Everything seemed to be so _much_. All his senses suddenly growing tenfold, pounding all around him. Beneath his palms gripping its neck, he felt the quick beating pulse, blood rushing through the creature's veins, and _god_ he wanted so badly just to-

With an ear-piercing screech, the creature went limp as Lance's teeth broke through its skin. Like he'd finally, finally gotten a taste of the sweetest nectar, Lance had never felt more alive. He moaned greedily and sank his teeth deeper as blood slid faster down his throat. It was his own little slice of heaven right here, if someone like him even belonged in a place called paradise. Or maybe it was hell, but how could it possibly be that bad of a place if it felt as nice as this?

The blissful feeling sank deep down into his bones until the rest of the world melted away.


End file.
